Jurassic Park: Isla Matanceros
by chainganger6
Summary: The year is 2004. Jurassic World is set to open in a year. In a last ditch attempt to save their company, Ingen's main rival, BioSyn, will send a team of scientists, executives, and security to the island of Isla Matanceros to steal and reverse-engineer prehistoric, dinosaur DNA. They thought it would be a fairly straightforward expedition. They were wrong.
1. Prologue

The lumbering beast walked out of the bushes. Almost unholy, it looked like a sick cross between some of the ugliest animals alive - the blobfish and the anglerfish - but based on land.

Around it was an equally ugly landscape. The trees were dead and the sky grey. Other small, repulsive creatures ran away from the beast, fleeing inside of dark holes and jumping into a polluted river.

The beast's shell was spiked and round, and underneath it there was dark brown skin. Torn up, it's underbelly had long streaks made up of flesh and muscle.  
One of its short front legs was merely a stump covered in a shiny coat of red.

The beast moaned in agony, trying to scuttle across the dirt, but froze with fear as a hideous thing fluttered down from a tree.

The thing had a long neck and a greasy body that was covered in black feathers. It stood on two legs, its body leaning forward. Obviously, it was in much better condition than its upcoming meal.  
Snarling at the beast, it craned down its neck and pushed it on its side.

The beast roared as it flailed helplessly - it couldn't get back upright. Its fate was sealed; his killer raised one foot above its exposed belly, and then brought it down. A sickle-like claw dug into the brown, wrinkly skin.

The killer pulled its foot back, peeling his prey's skin like a potato. The beast could only respond with wails and bellows, and it felt horror as its killer repeated the process. Over time, the bird like creature that had conquered consumed the beast.

That is, until a screeching, circular ball of rubber crushed them both. Soon, the two were nothing but red stains in the earth.

Bill Carter looked out the window of the Jeep. Nothing but sand and dirt; he could hardly see the mountains in the distance.

It was a far cry from the upscale hotels and offices of Cupertino that he worked in.

What the hell were they thinking, he thought, sending me to Arizona of all places.

Carter sighed and stared out the window. Soon, the tiny E.D. Cope complex came into view.

The Ross abode was nothing more than a series of hastily assembled hovels and ditches. Shovels, pickaxes, and wrenches were scattered all over the entrance to the main building.

Carter turned to the driver.

"Wait in the car."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…"

"Logan. Tom Logan. And you're Mr. Carter, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yep."

Logan motioned for Carter to sit, and took his boots off the desk.

"What can I do for you?"

Carter looked down at his shoes and smiled. "I'm sure you know what this is about, Dr. Logan. You must've heard about San Diego. Alan Grant -"

"Yeah, I've seen his lectures."

"Then you and I know both know the field of paleontology is practically extinct. There is no reason for you people to persist in digging up rocks and bones in the dirt after what InGen brought to the world."

"You know, if you had listened closely, you'd had noticed that they created aberrations. Organisms that resemble nothing that we've found conclusively in the fossil record. Grant described the Velociraptors as oversized. Theropods lacking feathers, that sort of thing."

Logan stood and began pacing.

"Ask yourself this, Mr. Carter. Why do humans still dig up artifacts in China or Egypt when we know so much about these civilizations?"

"Come on, it's a stupid question," Carter said. "The comparison is all wrong here."

Logan sat back down and put his hands on the desk, rather dramatically.

"No, it ain't. We as humans strive for knowledge. To understand culture. And through paleontology, we can understand the evolution of life on this planet."

"Big deal."

Logan continued: "Our field of work is crucial to biology. What John Hammond made is a load of bullshit. It has nothing to do with actual paleontology."

"Then work with us. Help us correct the mistakes he made. Improve on the progress they achieved, that now has been left abandoned-"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm offering you and your team a chance for greatness. To finalize something. You'll achieve a project the likes of which has never been seen before. Not by science. Certainly not by Hammond."

Logan furrowed his brow. "You know, Mr. Carter, insulting my career is not the best way of going about trying to hire me."

"So what do you say?"

"I don't know, Carter. I'll have to think about it."

Carter heard footsteps in the hallway. The shape of appeared; blonde, glasses wearing a white lab coat.

Both men turned to see her address Logan.

"We're about ready to wrap this up. Getting to be really cold," she said.

Logan nodded.

She walked to Carter, extending her hand.

"Angela Ross."

"Bill Carter."

Ross sat down in a chair next to Carter's.

"So what brings you to our crappy little digsite?"

"I was just asking your husband if he wanted to work with the company I represent. By the way, I notice you kept your name. I like that, it's progressive."

Ross blushed. "Too many els in Angela Logan. I tend to trip over my own tongue."

"I'd like some time to discuss this with my wife, Bill," Logan said.

"Of course."

Carter stood up and walked out the door.

"You see, the missus isn't too keen on me working for this large corporation of sorts. But those conditions you told me about earlier over the phone, they're just too good to be true. I could bring my own team, you said. I understand I'd be doing -"

"Genetic work. Consulting with us, helping us perfect the assets. And the archipelago expeditions, seeing what's out there."

"I'm not a geneticist."

"I never said you were," Carter said.

"I'll think about it."

"Still? Come on, you gotta be kidding me."

Carter rolled his head. "Listen, I'll still be in town today and tomorrow. You have my number. Head on over to this address and we can finalize any details, work out a contract. That way, the missus doesn't know what's going on."

Logan nodded. "Alright. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Carter extended his hand. Logan grasped it, and shook it with anticipation.


	2. Inauguration

The sun beat down on Jayson Cooke's massive forehead. He squinted, covering his eyes with his hands. Still didn't work.

He sighed and looked at his watch. Then at Lauren.

Lauren was to his right, currently walking over to throw away a plastic bottle.

She dropped it, exclaimed, and bent down to pick it up.

Jayson could see up her skirt - beige panties against her dark skin - but he quickly averted his gaze. This was a strictly professional relationship, and he already had a wife at home.

And it wouldn't be smart to eye a woman like that in public.

Lauren came back. "You know when the limo is getting here? I'm starting to sweat."

"Tell me about it," Jayson said. He tugged at his collar.

"Jesus. Can't imagine how hot it must be in there."

"I know. Fat fuck like me in this fuckin' suit. Always ends up no good."

He looked at the sun. "Fuckin' San Diego weather. Gives you skin cancer."

Behind him, he heard the distinct stopping of a large car.

Jayson and Lauren turned to see a black limo in the middle of the street. Two people exited the car; a blonde woman and a blonde man. Both of them were wearing formal attire and sunglasses.

The first one to greet Jayson was the blonde woman.

"You all look like a Navy Seal crack team," he said, grinning.

"Mr. Cooke," Ross said.

"Please, call me Jayson."

Ross went to greet Lauren.

"Ms. Bennett. I'm excited to be on board."

"We're happy to have you," Lauren said."

Tom Logan approached Jayson.

"Hey, Mr. Cooke. How are you?"

"Good. I'm glad to have everyone here," Jayson said.

Jayson walked to Lauren and tapped her on the shoulder. "It's time for us to board."

Ross and Logan followed Jayson to the end of the pier.

Jayson's room was elegantly furnished. Paintings, flower vases, a large bathroom and closet space. Beautiful, he thought.

He walked over to the porter as he began his mandatory farewell speech.

"My name is Jesus. If you need anything, please use the phone on your desk and dial 1."

Jayson walked over to him and handed him a 10 dollar bill. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," the porter said, and left.

Now it was just Jayson and Lauren in the room.

Jayson looked out the window; workers were hastily loading boxes and cargo onto the boat. They looked like ants from the room's height.

"You ever think these poor bastards get rooms like ours?"

"Jayson, that's really not important right now. We need to assess the situation here," Lauren exclaimed.

"What's there to assess? Nothing. Let's just enjoy the boat ride there. We're not even gonna be on the ground like the rest of them."

"It's not that simple. Rossiter didn't organize this operation efficiently."

"Rossiter is a prick and a douchebag," Jayson said. "What did you expect?"

He sat down on the bed; she looked at him impatiently. "Aren't you gonna tell me something?"

"Yeah. A lot of things, actually. You should shower and get dressed. We have dinner with them at 7."

Jayson groaned loudly and fell onto the bed. "Oh, goddammit. A week at sea with the most boring people imaginable. Making stupid small talk and then they ask you where's your accent from, like they give a shit. I don't even wanna be on this metal can. It's boring. I'd rather just be at the island."

Lauren smirked and crossed her arms. "To be fair, the New York accent is pretty distinctive."

"It's a lost art. Speaking like this." Jayson looked up. "You ever wonder how they got the T. rex back overnight? Why can't our boat be like this?"

"I'm going to change." Lauren left the room. Jayson groaned again and stood up, walking over to the desk where she had left the portfolio.

Jayson picked it up.

ISLA MATANCEROS EXPEDITION

2004

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Jayson opened it, flipping through the pages until he reached a page labelled "EXPEDITION WORKFORCE."

He sat down on his bed, and turned the page. There was a note on the backside:

To Jayson and Lauren,

I know you both are not exactly content with the expedition. It hasn't always been easy, and I confess that we have made many organizational mistakes in the planning and execution of this mission. That is why we worked hard to ensure only the best people would be joining us, and I've given you a version of the Biosyn Field Guide edited specifically for you. We have placed the utmost importance on this and I trust you not to fail: the company depends on it.

Jeff Rossiter

Charming, Jayson thought. He continued on to see a smaller part of the table of contents.

8\. EXPEDITION WORKFORCE 57

8.1 DR. ANGELA ROSS 58

8.2 DR. THOMAS LOGAN 59

8.3 ERICA ROYEZ 60

8.4 JOSEPH WHEELER 61

8.5 RAYMOND DAGAN [SECURITY] 62

8.6 SCOTT TEMPLETON [SECURITY] 63

8.7 COLIN MURPHY 64

8.8 JAIME OROZCO [GUIDE] 65

8.9 UMBERTO SECADA [GUIDE] 66

They're just names on a page, he thought, and I'll be entrusting them with this gig.

He sighed, laid back on the bed, and thought of his wife.

Joseph Wheeler squinted at the sun. He had purchased clip-on shades for his round tortoise-shell eyeglasses, but he had left them at home.

Goddamnit, he thought.

The boat released a great sound; the blaring of its horn. A door on its side opened and a steel walkway descended onto the pier.

He could finally board.

A man with brown hair and pale complexion got onto the walkway along with Wheeler, who promptly reached the top and shook the hands of a young, busty crewmember.

"Welcome aboard," she said.

Behind her was a swarthy man in a navy blue suit, and was sporting a thick grey beard. Wheeler surmised it was the captain of the ship.

"Welcome. Waqas Hutton," he said.

"Thanks," Wheeler said.

There was a porter behind the captain.

"Mr. Wheelerm right?"

"That's correct."

"Follow me, please."

Wheeler's room eyed his room as the porter left. It was shabilly decorated, with large and unattractive panes of aluminum serving as its walls. There was only one bed.

The brown haired man entered the room, setting down his luggage.

"Hiya, name's Colin Murphy."

"Joe Wheeler."

Murphy looked around. "Unbelievable. You would have thought that for such an operation they wouldn't have cheaped out when it came to our rooms."

"Yeah. Damn shame," Wheeler said.

"You excited for the trip?"

"Not really. I would be fired if I didn't come," Wheeler said, sitting down on the bed.

"But still, it's exciting. Live dinosaurs. Something you guys are having a hard time replicating." Murphy sat down in a steel armchair by the door.

Wheeler stared at Murphy. "I'm not a geneticist."

"You don't have to be one. You contribute to their work."

"I didn't want to help them. Not Tom Logan." Wheeler sighed. "You know, it feels like every time InGen or their islands come up on the news, our priorities get shifted and then we have to play catch-up. 'Wheeler, recreate this.' 'Wheeler, help us with this wooly mammoth specimen.' 'No, on second thought, we're going to focus on making reptilians. Help us create biologically correct animals, for the park.' It's bullshit."

"Can't argue with that there. Hopefully, we get something productive out of this," Murphy said.

"We won't. Just you watch." Wheeler crossed his arms and pushed up his glasses.


	3. Strategem

Lauren cut her rib-eye steak gracefully. Jauson couldn't help but notice; whatever he would do, his gaze would always drift towards her.

She put the fork in her mouth and started chewing; she looked at Jayson oddly. Almost as if asking him to stop.

Jayson stuttered. "So, uh, Laury, uh …"

Angela Ross spoke. "Mr. Carter won't be joining us?"

"No, we're sorry to say," Lauren said. "At the last minute -"

Logan butted in. "So, Lauren, what's the purpose of having _two_ higher ups to this mission?"

"I'm just as confused as you are, Doctor. Jeffrey Rossiter is a strange man sometimes. But he's a good guy."

"Indeed," said Logan, "especially since he entrusted a guy like yourself to command this mission."

Jayson felt this was directed at him. "What do you mean, a guy like yourself?"

"I've heard about you. How you've served in Lebanon."

"Yeah," Jayson said softly.

Ross looked puzzled. "When was that again, early eighties?"

"Yeah," Jayson repeated. "And Panama. And the Gulf War."

"How?"

"After Lebanon, I was broke. So I went for looking for work and got a part-time gig as a security guard at this office building at Cupertino. I stopped a robbery once. Two men almost escaped with very valuable assets, so I stopped them. People that worked inside, the commended me, and thanked me. They said I went above and beyond what a normal security guard would do."

"You really did," Logan said.

Jayson put down his cutlery. Lauren knew he was going on a tangent.

"So I became the boss of all the security guards outside the building. It was just a couple of schmucks, really. Nothing too much. And then the guy who was in charge inside found a better job, and I guess the scientists thought the security guys inside were a bunch of assholes cause they recommended me for the job. So I was in charge of the security inside - the whole building. And so it went."

"How did it go from that to Panama?"

"Panama was a distraction. I wanted to serve, I missed that feel of war, the thrill. I met with the other guys; Lewis Dodgson, Ron Meyer, and they agreed to send me off. And I was serving my country. I only ended up doing a few months anyway, and came back to fulfill my duties at Biosyn."

"And the Gulf War?"

"My lieutenant colonel saw something in me. We had been in Lebanon and Panama. So when the Gulf War came around, I would be a Major if I wanted to serve. And I did, and when I came back I just kept working. By the late nineties I was the boss of all security. The whole company. And that's how I got to know Jeff Rossiter and he thought I would do better in finances."

Jayson stood up. "Excuse me."

He nodded to Lauren.

They were both in the hallway leading to the restrooms.

"Here you are, telling your whole life story to these people. I thought you considered them boring," Lauren said.

"I do. But we're going to be together for a long time. And I like it when people are fascinated by the things you say."

"I am their master. Now I have them trained like puppies," Jayson said, laughing.

"Oh, shut up," Lauren said. She walked back up the stairs.

"I'm gonna take a piss," Jayson called out.

True to his word, he walked to the men's restroom and opened the door.

There were two men inside; one at the urinal and another washing his hands. Jayson recognized the guy washing his hands: he was one of Logan's team, a paleontologist. He knew him because of the glasses and the blonde, raggedy hair; he had appeared on television before. Joe Wheeler was scrubbing his fingers furiously, almost compulsively. Jayson frowned, and walked over to greet him.

"Joseph Wheeler, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. You are Jayson Cooke, if I'm not mistaken," Wheeler said. They shook hands.

Jayson dried his palms on his slacks.

"You, uh, work with Tom Logan."

"Right again."

"Well, it's good to meet you."

"Likewise." Wheeler, already having dried his hands, left the room. Jayson made his way to a urinal.

The man next to him groaned and put his head back. Then he looked at Jayson.

"Hiya. I'm Colin Murphy," he said.

"I know. You worked at InGen. We brought you over to our ship."

"And for that, I'm thankful. Good to be working with you guys."

Colin Murphy was a skinny, scruffy looking man; even more so than Joe Wheeler. And he stank. Jayson had the feeling he didn't wear deodorant on hot days. He also got the feeling he wasn't a sincere person.

Like Wheeler, Murphy left the room.

Jayson passed Lauren in the hallway.

"I thought you said you were going back up," he said.

"I did. But then I had to pee."

Murphy passed the both of them. Jayson waited until he got onto the stairs.

"Incompetent cocksucker. He's a geologist in name only."

"That's a bit harsh. Who is he?"

"Colin Murphy. Hammond's grandkids' uncle. I tell ya, it's nepotism at its finest."

"How did he…"

"Hammond's daughter. As a favor to the company, this asshole, brother of her husband, was made a geologist in InGen. High enough to get a good salary but not high enough to get noticed when Masrani bought the company."

Jayson spit on the floor.

"What'd he do to you?"

A pause. "Nothing," Jayson said.

"Are you going back up?"

"No," he said, walking away.

Jayson leaned further on the railing, and took a deep breath. Fresh, salty air. He turned back to see two men wearing bulletproof vests and baseball caps. Army types; they were Scott Templeton and Raymond Dagan.

Ray Dagan served in Panama and Iraq with Jayson and Templeton. Scott Templeton served in Iraq with Dagan and Jayson.

Jayson regarded Dagan as a 'satellite;' a dumb, blank person who mindlessly followed orders. To his credit, Dagan never did anything horrible in Panama or Iraq. Jayson knew Dagan had only ever killed enemy combatants in self-defense.

Templeton was notorious in the army for his hot-blooded and brash nature. In Iraq, Jayson saw him assaulting civilians for getting in his way. This was a man who eschewed subtlety or understanding of the art of war in favor of brute force.

Nonetheless, they were his friends, through and through.

Jayson grabbed ahold of Dagan's hand, who was closest to him, and bumped against him with his burly shoulder. With a smile, he turned and did the same with Templeton.

"Thanks for getting us this gig," Dagan said.

"Yeah, Jay. We really appreciate it," Templeton said.

"No problem. I don't know if 40 bucks an hour is enough recompense for Iraq, but …" Jayson looked at them. The pair were staring blankly at him. Jayson just realized he had fouled up his joke, if it could even be called that.

"The hell you talking about Jay, of course this is enough recompense," Templeton said palely. "After the war, we couldn't get any jobs. We weren't treated with respect." He turned and looked around the deck. "And now _this_ … this is amazing."

"It's like a paid vacation to beautiful Central America," Dagan said.

"Good, we're all here. I think we can begin," Lauren said. Jayson nodded. She turned to the big board and pointed to the large green island in the center.

"This, as you may know, is Isla Matanceros. InGen owns the island in addition to Isla Nublar and Sorna."

Logan peered at her with his mouth open.

"Are you confused?" Jayson approached him, his tone impatient.

"I thought they only owned two islands," Logan said.

Lauren smiled. "I thought we went over this, but no matter. Masrani acquired InGen in 1997. That same year, they leased this island from the government. We've gleaned information that tells us that they've built facilities and started to clone once again."

"Illegally," Wheeler said. "They just killed the Gene Guard Act last year."

"So they shouldn't have been cloning dinosaurs for the past seven years."

"Correct a mundo," Murphy said. Logan turned around to look at the man, sighing. The room was filled with the sound of squeaky teeth.

"You know, your chewing gum annoys me to no end," Logan said.

"Cool," Murphy said. He kept going.

Logan then looked at the back of the room; two stout, latin-looking men were staring at him, scowling and sitting silently. Miffed or intimidated, Logan payed attention to Lauren's presentation.

"Anyways," Lauren said, "our goal at this island is to document and survey these animals. The patented attractions -"

One of the latin-looking men cleared his throat loudly, and spoke: "They're patented, you say?"

"Yes, they are." Lauren struggled to speak, almost as if remembering something. " _Umberto_ , right?"

"Yes miss," he said.

"Right. Our plan is that if we could obtain examples of their dinosaurs, we could reverse engineer  
them and make our own, with enough modifications in the DNA to evade their patents."

Jayson clapped his broad hands powerfully. "And that's all there is to it! Nothing more, nothing less. Remember, we are not, strictly speaking, on the right side of the law on this one so we have to be careful. Blending in to not get caught. We have InGen uniforms and ID's for all of you, so we can pass by without suspicion."

Lauren continued. "About the dinosaurs, we know InGen has them on a short leash. They've taken full precautions this time, keeping them under total surveillance and every security measure imaginable after what happened on Nublar, San Diego, and Sorna. They don't pose a danger to us. But _if_ , in the unlikely event of the dinosaurs being released on the island, we have copies of InGen's list and their field guide."

Jayson walked over to the table by the large starboard windows, picking up a stack of binders. He started passing them around.

"Every known cloned dinosaur and organism on this Earth is listed in there. We know everything about them. We want you to be reading these over the next few days. Prepare yourselves mentally, and we'll come back safe and sound," he said.

"No we won't," Wheeler said.

"Why do you say that?"

Wheeler laughed and looked down at his feet.

This smug asshole, Jayson thought. Jayson sat down in front of him.

"Look. Every time there's an incident - every time humans go near these creatures - there's always an incident. Always casualties."

He scooted forward on his seat. "There's three major incidents that we know of, right?"

"Right," Jayson said.

"Number one. Isla Nublar incident, 1993. 13 dead or presumed dead. Various specimens were killed, and resulted in the loss of John Hammond's resort. Four years later, InGen sends a group of hunters to Isla Sorna in order to capture some of their dinosaurs back and open a new resort. It goes awful, many people die, but they manage to come back -"

"With a T. rex and a juvenile, who break loose and cause havoc in San Diego," Logan said.

Murphy looked and pointed out the window. "Or in other words, back there."

"Right again. Classified documents tell us the group of saboteurs that freed the dinosaurs got the T. rex back under control and allowed for authorities to ship it back to Isla Sorna. And like that, the public knows of dinosaurs' existence."

"What's incident three?"

"Incident three happened two years ago, Isla Sorna. A couple hires Dr. Alan Grant to guide them through Isla Sorna in search of their missing son, even though Grant had never been on that island."

Murphy was attentive. "Well that's just dumb," he said.

"I know. People are stupid," Wheeler said. "Anyway, many people died. Some dinosaurs were released and killed after they reached Canada."

"What's your point?"

"Every time people try to do something with these creatures, people die and all hell breaks loose. What makes you think this time's going to be any different? This expedition? Or Jurassic World next year?"

"Jurassic World will be safe. They've been so successful," Logan said.

Wheeler sighed.

"I don't want to sound naive, but we've taken precautions," Logan said. "We studied what they did wrong. We have proper weaponry. An arsenal. We don't lack equipment or training and we don't have any saboteurs on board. And we have the boat here; a base of operations that will never leave. The animals can't get to us here."

"I don't know," Wheeler said. "These animals, they're too dangerous. No matter how you put it."

"I guess we can't change your mind," Logan said.

Wheeler sneered at Logan. "No. You can't."

Jayson suddenly grabbed ahold of Wheeler by the neck. Lauren and some others shot up.

"Jayson! Let go of him!" Reprimanding him like a child.

Jayson pulled Wheeler up off his seat. Wheeler's legs were free and skidding all over the floor. He was panting, shaking.

"Listen to me, you little shit. You don't have a choice. You don't have a say. You're on this goddamn boat whether you like it or not. Complain all the fuck you want."

Jayson released him; Wheeler fell head first onto the floor.

Jayson stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Lauren quickly kneeled down next to Wheeler. "I'm sorry about that." She lifted his head up off the floor. "Are you alright?"

She saw a small purple bruise on his forehead.

"I'm fine," he said groggily.

The rest - Angela Ross, Tom Logan - looked on, shocked. Wheeler slowly got to his feet with the help of Lauren and sat down.

"This meeting is adjourned," Wheeler said. Lauren nodded and soon the room was empty.

"What's his deal?"

"I don't know. I've never seen him get like this."

"I think he's a repressed individual." Wheeler paused, and gazed at Lauren. "Thank you for doing this."

Lauren turned bright red. "I have a fiancee. I'm engaged."

Wheeler laughed. "No, don't worry. I'm not into you." He turned bright red too. "Not that you aren't pretty. It's just that … have you seen Dr. Ross' assistant? Erica Royez? She's real pretty. Once you look into those eyes … it's impossible not to be attracted to her."

"I don't think I've seen her."

"I have. For years. Never had a real reason to talk to her … but we've been getting sort of close. Started talking in the past few months. I'd been hoping that this trip would bring us together. Fools can dream."

Wheeler looked at Lauren once again. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"It's okay."

Wheeler lumbered through the door frame. Murphy got up off the bed.

"Jesus Christ, are you okay?"

"My name's Joe," Wheeler said with a grin. He winced as he pressed the ice pack closer to his left eye.

"\He should have never been made an executive."


	4. Arrival

The black, tropical forests of the Costa Rican island were coming into view. There was no light - no visible activity on the South Dock. The ship they were riding on was the only source of movement they could possibly see.

It was night time for the zoo.

Lauren stared at Waquas Hutton impatiently; the captain was tapping his foot as well. Almost sixty, with a full grey beard and a swarthy complexion. Jayson was peering over his shoulder.

At this point, he didn't think it'd work.

"Hell of a time for this to be acting up, Hutton."

"Maybe if you hadn't cheaped out on us, we wouldn't be having this problem." Hutton turned the knobs once more - in the same positions as before, in fact - only to be met by more static and squealing.

Hutton looked at the clock: PDT was exactly at zero two hundred hours. So CST would be zero three hundred hours. Three in the morning in Costa Rica.

"Just leave it for now. We should park the boat," Lauren said.

"You don't park a ship."

Hutton left the knobs and sat down at the aluminum desk he and Lauren had set up. A crewmember adjacent to him was adjusting wires behind the radio and jotting down frequencies on a small notepad.

He looked at the crewmember. "What do you got there?"

"I gotta go. I'll be right back," Jayson said before leaving the room.

The radio suddenly bummed and crackled. Loud, piercing snaps and hisses came through again on the speakers - much louder than before.

Then they heard a voice say, "Skipper SS Annex, this is ISD Irpino. Do you copy, over?"

Hutton grabbed hold of the microphone from the crewmembers hand. "ISD Irpino, this is Skipper SS Annex. We copy. How do you read me, over."

"I read you poor with a signal strength two."

Then there was a silence. They waited for a response.

Hutton squinted and glanced at the crewmember, then at Lauren. Then he looked back at the radio and the screens mounted on the desk.

Still no response.

The voice came back. "Your position bearing eighty-two degrees from IM South Dock,  
distance zero-decimal-four nautical miles is in violation of federal law. Turn back at once, over."

Lauren glared at Hutton. Somehow, he noticed and turned around.

"I don't know," he mouthed.

"Fix it," Lauren said.

Hutton's eyes shifted around the room. The radio squealed again.

He spoke, squinting as he did so. "Question, do we have permission to enter the fairway."

"Answer, you may not enter the fairway."

Hutton pressed a black button on the microphone to mute transmissions. He motioned at Lauren.

"What the hell do we do now?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

Hutton released the button; his face was beaded with perspiration.

"Skipper SS Annex, you are in a restricted area. Warning, by entering the fairway you are placing Skipper SS Annex into danger," the radio announced.

"We're with InGen."

"InGen vessels are not authorized to enter the IM South Dock fairway. Repeat, InGen vessels are not authorized to enter the IM South Dock fairway. Stand clear to ISD Irpino immediately, over."

Lauren exploded. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck'd you do, Hutton? I thought you were qualified to do this -"

"I don't know, they must've seen through our disguise," he answered.

The radio vocalized once again. "Warning. Skipper SS Annex, our defense systems are operational. Turn back at -"

The sound faded out. Then there was a loud hissing and popping from the radio, followed by black fumes that slowly rose from the plastic shell of the radio.

"Shit." Hutton slapped the radio.

Lauren's eyes rolled, clutching her head, and crashing into the wall behind her. A crewmember ran down next to her.

"Are you alright?"

She was panting heavily, now grabbing her chest.

Hutton grabbed the crewmember by the shoulder. "Turn this ship around. Immediately."

"Aye aye, captain." He ran out of the room.

Hutton sat down next to Lauren. "Let's get you to bed." He put his arm around her back and slowly lifted her off her feet.

"We're a failure. We've failed."

"It's okay," he said.

They walked out the door and onto the walkway. Nippy, salty air blew into their faces. Hutton looked at his watch. Zero-three-ten hours. They had to get some sleep.

Hutton gazed upon the ISD Irpino for the first time; a long, metal beast that was floating calmly on the moonless waters of the horizon.

Suddenly, a dazzling light manifested itself in the darkness. Hutton let go of Lauren and covered his own eyes with the back of his hand.

Jayson placed his hands on the fine marple of the receptionist's desk and reached over to grab an apple that was left by the computer. He picked up the fruit and took a bite, looking around to see if anybody was watching.

He then looked at the desktop screen. A large clock in the center showed that it was 3:08 a.m.

Perfect, Jayson thought. He'd have a drink and go off to bed.

Jayson walked to the end of the chamber of sorts and into the hallway leading to his room. He took out the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

Beer in hand, Jayson closed the fridge door and lumbered back to his leather armchair. Passing by the television, he looked at a faint reflection of himself in the dark flat-panel display. His flat arms were exposed with the undershirt he was wearing; you could see the large tattoo of a dragon he had on his right bicep. Jayson placed the bottle in his mouth, trying to bite the cap off with his bare teeth.

Then there was a rumbling. The room, or even, the boat itself started to shake - rapidly and violently. An expensive chandelier affixed to the ceiling swayed back and forth, its crystals bouncing off each other loudly.

Jayson stood up, and placed the bottle on the desk next to him.

He peered out the door.

"Hello," he yelled.

Jayson walked out into the hallway and back to the chamber.

The ship was shaking more violently now. He had the mind to tell the captain off; this kind of behavior on such an important mission was unacceptable.

And then the ship rocked fiercely to the left. Jayson was knocked off his feet and fell sideways onto the floor.

He looked back at the chamber. The wall was completely destroyed, and it appeared as if a large projectile had made its way into the room.

There was a large steel cylinder lodged in the floor.


End file.
